


cavaliere angelo

by thekuroiookami



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Anal Sex, Body Worship, Drabble, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Manipulation, Family Bonding, Kyrie mention, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Kink, One Shot, Parent/Child Incest, Sassy Nero, Secret Relationship, Shameless Smut, Surprises, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 05:59:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19193134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekuroiookami/pseuds/thekuroiookami
Summary: Nero makes a sudden, unusual request. Vergil reluctantly complies.





	cavaliere angelo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zas (fluxfiction)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluxfiction/gifts).



Nero has never asked Vergil for anything before. He never expected his son to. But even if he had, Vergil doesn’t think this possibility would ever have occurred to him.

 

“Excuse me?” His voice comes out a little harsher than he intended it.

 

Nero clenches his jaw, still fiddling nervously with the edge of his glove. “Look, if you don’t want to-”

 

“You realize what you’re asking for?” Maybe Nero was just _that_ inexperienced.

 

“Yeah, I’m not an idiot. I just want to try it out with someone else, okay? Kyrie is...I don’t want to hurt her.”

 

“And you decided I was the best candidate for this because…?”

 

“No one else will...keep it a secret.”

 

Nero looks him in the eye, defiant. It’s almost like he’s challenging Vergil to say no.

 

And in that moment, Vergil understands. He is bound here, by the blood that links them together and the time they did not share. His son has been neglected, and he will make amends now.

 

“Very well.”

 

* * *

 

They’re in the bedroom he shares with Kyrie. Vergil casts around a swift glance, no doubt cataloging information for later. His father shrugs off his dark coat and lays it on the dresser. Vergil’s back is a study in honed musculature, lean and efficient.

 

Nero averts his gaze before he’s caught staring.

 

Vergil sits down in the armchair next to the window, his head propped on his hand. It’s Kyrie’s favorite spot for reading and other relaxing activities, a well-cushioned number in a faded yellow. The way Vergil sits in it, it might as well be a throne.

 

His father beckons. “Come here.”

 

His first instinct is to disobey, but Nero forces it down and walks over. He cocks his head at Vergil, skeptical.

 

His sweatpants and grey t-shirt are scrutinized. “Take off your shirt,” Vergil orders.

 

Nero tugs it over his head, breath coming a little faster. Vergil looks at him with something like approval.

 

“Kneel.”

 

He’s not sure what it is the about the way it’s said, but something makes Nero comply immediately. Excitement pulses in his gut, hot and insistent.

 

Vergil leans forward and cups his cheek. His father’s hands are rough at the ends where the gloves don’t protect them. Vergil’s touch is light, delicate. He grips the side of Nero’s face briefly, before sliding his hand downwards. Awareness sparks to life as his hand trails over Nero’s neck, collarbone, and down his shoulder.

 

Kyrie touches him gently, but this is different. This is the touch of someone admiring a work of art, being careful with a prized possession. Nero doesn’t like it, but his blood is heating in response.

 

Vergil sweeps his palm over the planes of Nero’s chest and hums. His arm wraps around Nero’s waist, fingertips caressing his spine. Nero arches involuntarily as sensation blossoms from the point of contact. Vergil keeps his touch frustratingly light, teasing Nero’s skin and his imagination.

 

Nero sinks a fist into Vergil’s hair, breathing hard. This is isn’t what he signed up for. Vivid blue eyes assess him. Then Vergil dips his head, and Nero is being kissed deeply.

 

There’s something deeply arousing about it. Vergil’s hand traces light patterns into the skin of his back, hand hovering just close enough to his waistband to tantalize. Nero chokes on a moan as Vergil’s tongue delves deeper into his mouth, then pulls back so Vergil can close his lips around the tip of Nero’s tongue and suckle on it. He finds himself pressing into the space between Vergil’s outspread knees, seeking friction.

 

“Not so fast,” murmurs his father. “Get rid of those trousers first.”

 

Nero almost trips in his haste to do as he’s told. The sweatpants are flung into a corner, and Nero is now fully nude. Vergil’s cold gaze sweeps him slowly, leaving heat in its wake. He’s half-hard, and the temptation to grip himself is strong.

 

“Turn around,” comes Vergil’s quiet command.

 

Nero smirks at this unexpected turn and strokes himself once, slowly. “What, you’re skipping this?”

 

Vergil raises an eyebrow. “I am not interested in your cock.”

 

Fuck. Nero’s suddenly so aroused he can’t think straight. “Whatever you say.”

 

He steps closer and turns, presenting his back to Vergil. Anticipation flickers in his chest, pooling in his belly.

 

A fingertip trails down the base of his spine, searching, drifting downwards until it presses against his entrance. Nero gasps at the sheer pleasure, the perverse beauty of it all, and his hips buck upwards like a prayer.

 

His father grips his ass and spreads him wider. “You might want to hold onto something.”

 

And then Nero’s mind shatters as Vergil begins pleasuring with his mouth.

 

* * *

 

Many things in Vergil’s life have not gone to plan, if honesty is required. He has not been all that he could be, and a good father is one of things.

 

But he makes a more than adequate lover, and if this what Nero wants, then he will give it.

 

He sinks his teeth into Nero’s bicep and buries himself deeper in the tight wetness.

 

“More,” his son pants, spine contorting in pleasure. “Fuck me harder.”

 

Vergil obliges. His fingers curl around Nero’s hip, careful not to leave bruises that would alarm Kyrie. Nero is spread open with a knee bent in the air so that Vergil can lie on his side and thrust in shallow, rapid movements. The angle allows Vergil to see the infinite, tiny expressions of desire Nero makes. It also displays Nero’s body to great advantage, with his cock curving against the flat of his stomach.

 

“Is this hard enough for you?” Vergil rocks his hips upward, sliding in all the way to the hilt.

 

Nero groans, breathless and needy. “Again.”

 

And that’s when it starts to deviate from the plan. Vergil keeps up his thrusts, leisurely at first. Then he notices, somewhere along the way, his hips move faster of their own accord. Nero’s rough breathing and desperate noises seem to spur him on, if only to see if he can make his son moan louder. Vergil’s own lungs become short of breath.

 

He glances at Nero, confused by this sudden surge of desire. Nero’s face is flushed with exertion, eyes fever-bright. His broad shoulders taper perfectly into lean hips and long legs. Vergil is fit, but Nero is blessed with the full bloom of youth, a moonlit allure that the untainted have. He is male beauty as an artist could hope to conceive.

He grasps Nero’s length to feel it, almost in a trance. Nero bites out a curse, his insides constricting around Vergil. It feels so good that Vergil strokes him again.

 

“I thought you didn’t want my- mmph.”

 

Vergil swallows Nero’s words in a kiss. He wants to take it all, every gasp, every sigh, to revel in this glory. The taste of rage and defiance on Nero’s tongue is exquisite.

 

Soon enough Nero is grinding down onto Vergil’s erection, shamelessly using him to climax. Vergil grips his son’s thigh and holds him open wider, penetrating him as far as possible. The change in angle, combined with Nero’s hand quickly working himself, has the younger man suddenly find his release. Nero comes with a hoarse cry, spilling white onto his chest and belly.

 

The sight is too much, and Vergil barely has enough presence of mind to pull out so he can rub a last few times against the curve of Nero’s bottom before climaxing hard. The pleasure drowns his body until his vision is blurred. When he comes to again, Nero is sprawled on the sullied sheets, looking tired.

 

They lie in silence for a few minutes. Then Nero says something about having to clean up before Kyrie returns, and Vergil nods. This is not his place. He sits up, uses the rumpled bed linen to wipe himself off, and heads towards his clothes strewn over the armchair.

 

“You know,” says Nero when he’s done dressing, “I didn’t expect you to pull out like that.”

 

“Hm?” Vergil dons his coat, one sleeve and then the other.

 

“At the end. Why didn’t you just…”

 

“It is not considerate...you would have difficulties afterwards.”

 

He stops at the door and tilts his head in curiosity. Nero is lost in thought. “Why do you ask, Nero?”

 

“Oh.” Nero smiles slightly, eyes alight. “Because Dante never did that.”  



End file.
